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Friday, 31 August 2012

Have you ever had a traumatic psychological wound that took decades to heal? I have had many in my lifetime. One of the deepest was being sent to an institution for blind children for six long years.

What made matters worse was when people, unfamiliar with institutional life, condemned me for hating it. Even my parents couldn't understand why I called the place a jail and complained bitterly about my lack of freedom there.

I related many of these misunderstandings in my Deliverance from Jericho: Six Years in a Blind School memoir. Even when I attended public school, sighted friends doubted what I said about the institution.

Below is an excerpt relating how a well-meaning acquaintance inadvertently struck a raw nerve during the summer of 1974.

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I had absolutely no wish to see the institution in which I had spent six long years. Regrettably, our bus driver parked on Eighth Avenue and said, "This is the Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind on your left."

I stared at my lap, refusing to gaze out the window. "Aren't you going to look at the school?" a woman next to me asked.

"I spent six years at that lousy place," I sourly replied. She sensed the bitterness in my voice and wisely changed the subject.

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Deliverance from Jericho abounds with vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Please feel free to click on the link to my books or contact me directly for more information about them.

Tuesday, 28 August 2012

For most folks, meeting alumni from their school days is a thrill. This isn't true of me. In my Deliverance from Jericho: Six Years in a Blind School memoir, I wrote about the mixed results of meeting ex-students from that institution.

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When I left Jericho, I feared I would have to return and hoped I would never have to go back. Although I liked some of the boys who were my schoolmates, I was not the kind of person to enjoy reunions. However, in the summer of 1974, four years after I left Jericho, I participated in a two-week student exchange trip which took me back to Vancouver.

The Voyageur program, sponsored by the federal government, was designed to create dialogue between teens from different provinces. At first, I had mixed feelings about visiting the same city where Jericho was. Then I realized that I might never see the place as Vancouver was a large city. I agreed to participate in the exchange and packed my bags.

Since David Mielke and I were good friends, I asked one of the students to look up his phone number. After we talked, I visited him and we had an enjoyable time that afternoon. Even his parents were pleased to see me.

Other than David, I met only one ex-Jericho student on that trip. Franklin, who at times was my roommate sat in front of me on the tour bus one morning. Having heard passengers speak to him, I realized he was the same person whom I went tobogganing with a few years before.

"Hi, Franklin," I said. When he failed to reply, I spoke louder. "Remember me - I was at Jericho with you." He continued to sit still as a statue, ignoring my overtures. Fine then, don't talk to me, I thought. Since he appeared unwilling to speak to me, I quit trying to rekindle our friendship.

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Deliverance from Jericho abounds with vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Please feel free to click on the link to my books or contact me directly for more information about them.

Friday, 24 August 2012

Contrary to popular belief, rabbits aren't always docile fur balls. They can become angry and uncooperative when something we do displeases them. This is particularly true when it comes to administering medication.

During Gideon's gastro-intestinal stasis episode in 1997, I had quite a battle to get his medicine inside him. Just catching him was hard enough.

Once Gideon realized that the syringe was going to be poked in his face again, he did everything in his power to get away. Each evening, I chased that rebellious little rabbit into the bathroom, grabbed his shoulders, and held him down while I tried to carefully squirt the medicine into his mouth. Gideon struggled so much that I had to pin him between my chest and the linoleum to prevent him wriggling free. Fortunately I didn't spill any medicine in spite of his contortions.

Once the torture was over, that put upon bunny raced into the bedroom and sulked under my chair for hours. What a relief it was for both of us when the daily medication torment came to an end after a week. Seeing Gideon eating and playing normally was also rewarding.

I wrote about these battles of the will in When a Man Loves a Rabbit: Learning and Living with Bunnies. This paperback also includes touching and hilarious vignettes of my life with house rabbits. Visit my book page to learn more about it.

Tuesday, 21 August 2012

Gastro-intestinal stasis has been called "the silent killer" by various knowledgeable veterinarians during the past twenty years. Since rabbits hide their illnesses well, inattentive caretakers could miss the signs until it's too late.

Being forewarned by rabbit-owning friends, I took immediate action when my bunny's droppings became small and he stopped eating. Since there was a vet about ten blocks away from me, and the weather was beautiful, I walked to the clinic with Gideon in his carrier. As I strolled, I tried keeping it in my shadow as much as possible so the poor guy wouldn't overheat.

I felt glad when the doctor said it was only a gut slow down and gave me a prescription for an antibiotic called Baytril. It was in liquid form and the vet wrote on the prescription that it should be in individual syringes so I wouldn't have to measure out doses.

I'm ashamed to admit this but I somehow became confused about administering the drug. The needles were left on the syringes by the pharmacist so I assumed I had to give the medicine subcutaneously. Since my sight is very poor, and I didn't want to risk hurting my fur-clad lad, I took Gideon back to the vets and had an assistant inject it.

The next day, my friend Bernie (who was a vet's assistant herself) came over to help me with the injection.

"Are you sure you were supposed to give this subcutaneously?" she asked as she examined the needles. When I repeated to her what I'd apparently been told, she put a drop of the medicine on her index finger and tasted it.

"Its sweet," she announced. "I don't think you were supposed to inject him with this."

That made things a lot easier for me since I knew how to give Gideon medicine in his mouth. Rabbits have a gap between the front teeth and the molars, allowing the tip of the syringe to fit nicely between them. I'd also read that I shouldn't squirt all the medicine in his mouth at once or he could choke on it.

Bernie used pliers to remove the needles and then she gave Gideon his daily dose orally.

In my When a Man Loves a Rabbit: Learning and Living with Bunnies book, I wrote about this and many other times when I had my bunnies at the vet's. The paperback is also filled with vignettes of what I learned from my long-eared friends. You can read more on my book page.

Friday, 17 August 2012

Whenever I tune in a Christian rock music station, I'm amazed at all the god-honouring tunes available to teenagers. When I was their age, music like that was difficult to find.

In my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, I wrote about the continual chiding I received from elderly members about my love of rock music. In this excerpt, I sought to find records that rocked as well as praised the Lord.

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While looking through the records in the Bible store one day, an exciting idea struck me. I rushed to the counter and asked the cashier, "Do you have any Christian rock music albums?"

"We only sell contemporary Christian music, but you might like this album by Emmanuel," she said. "They're a local group too."

I took a chance and bought it.

When I worked up the nerve to listen to the Crayons album, I liked a few of the tracks. I particularly enjoyed "You Colour My Life." With the proper promotion, the tune might have been a hit on secular radio stations. Most of the other tracks suffered from the same form of blatant pontificating common to that genre. I ended up listening to the handful of songs which appealed to me.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.

Tuesday, 14 August 2012

In one of his comedy routines, Bill Cosby related how his mother used to put raisins in his Cream of Wheat porridge so he wouldn't notice the lumps. That didn't fool Bill's throat one bit. The lumps still made him gag.

In a similar fashion, one church elder thought she could lure me away from the supposed evils of rock music. In this excerpt from my upcoming memoir, I knew that whatever she wanted me to hear wouldn't satisfy me.

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Sister Eileen dropped the subject but Sister Roberta phoned several days later.

I sighed and then replied, "Well, I happen to like rock music better."

"You shouldn't be listening to that worldly music. It's so ungodly. Remember what Paul wrote to the Philippians about thinking on things noble, good, and praiseworthy? There are so many uplifting Christian songs you could be listening to."

Then an idea struck her. "Say, why don't I tape some nice sprightly tunes for you?"

"No, thanks. I like the stuff I hear on CHED."

"Well, if you ask me, you're certainly being influenced by satanic forces when you listen to that unholy racket."

I fumed the rest of that day. "Why, Lord, is it so hard to find Christian rock?" I repeated as I paced my room.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.

Friday, 10 August 2012

Christian rock pioneer, Larry Norman, expressed this sentiment in a song on his album called Just Visiting This Planet He received plenty of persecution because of his God-honouring tunes. Because many older Christians believed rock music would lead teenagers into hell, they condemned every form of it.

In my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, I related how one church member took it upon herself to rectify my taste in music.

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In spite of my efforts to bring people to Thee Church, certain members fretted once more about my apparent lack of sanctification. Because I remained a fan of rock music and had already purchased several dozen LPs, they sought to rectify my musical tastes.

"I'm concerned about the music you're listening to," Sister Eileen began as we finished eating supper one Wednesday evening in August. "I've bought you this nice album of music for young people." She pulled a record out of a plastic shopping bag and handed it to me. "I'm sure you'll like it."

I frowned as I examined the contrived cover art on the album in my hands. "Thanks," I replied, though I felt little gratitude.

The record sounded far worse than I feared when I played it the next afternoon. The moralistic, goody-two-shoes tone of its ghastly tunes and skits set my teeth on edge. Whoever composed both tried to relate to teenagers, but it sounded mawkish. Only my duty as a friend to Sister Eileen kept me listening to both sides of the disk.

"So, what did you think of that record?" she asked at lunch after the Sunday service.

"Well," I stalled, "I certainly appreciate you buying it for me."

"Yes, but did you enjoy the music?"

"Well, it's really not what I like listening to," I mumbled as I stared at my lap.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.

Tuesday, 7 August 2012

We tend to take the accessability of electricity and battery power for granted here in the developed nations. When we want entertainment, we merely plug something in or buy batteries from a local store.

Imagine how it would be if you had no regular supply of electricity and batteries cost 3 or 4 weeks wages. That's how it is for many people in underdeveloped nations.

The BayGen Freeplay radio solves the battery problem very nicely. Without getting too technical about it, This radio works like the old gramophones. A large spring turns a small generator which, in turn, powers the radio section.

The BayGen Freeplay radio was invented by british engineer Trevor Baylis. He heard about the difficulties which various health agencies had in spreading AIDS-prevention information to people in Africa due to the cost of batteries. He realized that a wind-up receiver would solve the problem cheaply and effectively.

Baylis received funding from The British Overseas Development Administration (US$ 300,000( and funding from other major backers such as the Liberty Life Foundation and the Kagiso Trust. He set up a factory in Milnerton, about 12 miles outside Cape Town, South Africa. Staffed by disabled workers, the factory manufactured about 20,000 receivers per month in 1996 alone.

The Freeplay was ruggedly designed for remote locations. It has a hard plastic case and looks like an over-sized lunch box. It measures 40 by 32 by 18 cm and weighs 2.6 kg. Since the sets were designed to be as cheep as possible, the usual frills were left out. This no-gimmicks receiver is practical and easy for anybody to use.

So, how could this radio help us? The BayGen receiver is useful on camping and hunting trips. The radio is great for power failures, especially when all the batteries at home are dead. Though the price may seem steep, about $112 U.S. plus duty, some of this money provides radios to villages which are too poor too buy them. The best part is cranking the handle and listening to AM, FM, and Short Wave signals for free.

Along with freelance magazine articles, I've written two paperback memoirs. Please visit my book page to learn more about them.

Friday, 3 August 2012

Believe it or not, I once had a watch rabbit. He didn't frighten burglars away but he did alert me to one person who entered my suite. This is how I discovered that Gideon, my house bunny, could actually be of help to me.

During August of 1997, one of the plastic bolts on the toilet seat snapped. I called my landlord the next day to come and replace it.

As I tidied up the bathroom the next afternoon, I expected my landlord to arrive at the front door. Suddenly I heard Gideon race out of the kitchen at top speed. All I saw was a white blur zoom past the bathroom door and into the bedroom. He stood there, ears straight up and eyes wide open, thumping his alarm.

As I started to leave the bathroom to calm Gideon down and see what frightened him, The landlord lugged his large tool kit down the hall. That must have been what panicked my fur sir so badly.

The fact that bunnies could be useful as alarms never occurred to me. His alertness made me feel somewhat safer.

After that day, I bragged to my friends on the PetBunny e-mail list that I had a watch rabbit.

When a Man Loves a Rabbit, my memoir of Gideon and his long-eared friends, is filled with many more fascinating stories of life with house bunnies. These vignettes range from the tragic to the hilarious. Please click on the link to my books for details about both of my paperbacks. You're also welcome to contact me directly for more information.

About Me

I've written 2 books, Deliverance from Jericho and When a Man Loves a Rabbit. I've written freelance articles since 1996 which appeared in diverse publications. I'm editing How I Was Razed, a memoir of my 15 years in a cult church and eventual discovery of genuine Christianity. It should be published by the end of 2010.

Buy My Books

When a Man Loves a Rabbit
This book sells for $10.00 (USD) plus $8.00 (USD) for shipping and handling. Copies can be purchased directly from the author via PayPal.
Deliverance from Jericho
This book sells for $20.00 (USD) plus $8.00 (USD) for shipping and handling. Copies can be purchased directly from the author via PayPal.